


Best Laid Plans

by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Auror Partners, Body Image, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Abortion, Discussion of Infertility, Domestic Fluff, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry/Draco Mpreg Fest 2020, Holidays, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Accidents, Magical Pregnancy, Male Lactation, Malfoy Family Dynamics, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson, Mpreg, POV Draco Malfoy, Pregnant Draco Malfoy, Romantic Harry Potter, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome
Summary: Draco picks at the hem of his robe. "I had a plan. I was going to woo Harry with my dashing charm and some earth-shattering sex. We’d fall madly in love, spend a year or two being sickeningly domestic, then get married and start a family."Pansy hides a smile. “One out of five’s not bad.”Or the one where a magical isle, a secret wish, and Harry bloody Potter take Draco’s plan and upends it on its head.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 75
Kudos: 1113
Collections: HD Mpreg 2020





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BummedOutWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BummedOutWriter/gifts).



> For the prompt:  
>  _After unintentionally bonding with Potter and determinedly ignoring said bond, Draco becomes spontaneously pregnant with Potter's baby. Magical side-effects and whatnot. Draco is not pleased (and neither are his parents)_  
>   
>  I really, _really_ wanted to write for mpreg fest this year but my muse was horribly uncooperative. Then I ran across your delicious prompt right before claiming closed, and... well, the seed was planted.
> 
> CW: There is a very brief discussion of abortion and infertility as well as a self-reference (made by Pansy) that could be construed as ableist language but is in no way intended as such.
> 
> Despite these warnings, I intended for this to be romantic and fluffy and relatively angst-free (seriously, it's like 1% angst and 99% fluff. Maybe 5% and 95%. Okay, 10% and 90%. With kids!). Regardless, it’s a bit of a departure for me, but that's where my head is at the moment. Thank you, [Pineau_noir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir/pseuds/Pineau_noir), for your speedy beta and keeping me straight with the maths. And a million thanks to sassy-cissa for being truly supportive and accommodating throughout this whole process. <3

* * *

**_September_ **

The first thing Draco thinks when he opens his eyes is that the lights in St Mungo's are too white, too bright, and that they really need to be changed out for something more soothing.

The first thing he _remembers_ is being drawn down somewhere dark (a cave? the woods?) then being hit with a spell that burns his body from the inside out. Even now he feels dazed, beyond the fact that his head seems to be floating two feet above. His body tingles and he's hyperaware of his surroundings yet disoriented. He may have undergone years of brutal training to become one of only four Special Operatives in an already-elite Auror division, but he doesn't need any of it to know that something has seriously gone down the shitter.

Draco shakes his head as his normally sharp mind bounces around on tangents. That, apparently, is not the smartest thing to do because it sets off a wave of nausea followed by a spasm that wraps around his belly, pelvis, and arse. He moans, though it comes out more like a croaking rasp.

_Seriously._ His arse. It really. Fucking. Hurts.

There's the scrape of a chair followed by scampering feet.

"Draco? Merlin, he's awake!" Harry's blurry form wavers in and out. Even though everything else remains fuzzy at the edges, his green eyes are undeniably intense and desperate.

Draco opens his mouth to tell Harry _don't worry, I'm fine,_ but the noise he makes is anything but. In fact, it sounds a bit like a dying Nundu, and it's enough for Harry to gesture to the mediwitch behind him.

Harry steps aside to let her through. It's then that Draco sees the enormous syringe with the equally large needle she's wielding. He tries to sit, but a violent tremor wracks his body, cutting off his protest.

Harry races to Draco's side. He takes Draco's hand as the mediwitch injects a potion through a port in Draco's IV.

The relief is almost immediate, and the last thing Draco remembers is the warmth of Harry's fingers curling protectively around him as he drifts off to sleep.

**_October_ **

Draco had thought (once upon a seemingly long time ago) that he lived the epitome of a charmed life. The years have proven that belief quite erroneous— laughably, heart-wrenchingly, so— but over the last several years he thought he'd finally turned his luck and fortune around. Now, sitting in the Ministry's cafeteria, he realises just how foolish he was.

Fortune, it seems, has an unforgiving memory and a cruel streak.

"Draco? Are you even listening?" 

Blaise is staring at Draco and biting his lip. Draco hates how his best friends are tiptoeing around him. He's not against being coddled or spoiled (old habits die hard), but the lack of snark from Blaise especially sets Draco on edge. At a time when everything's gone pear-shaped, what Draco truly craves is some semblance of normalcy. 

"Yes," Draco says, taking out his frustration on the hapless carrots remaining on his plate. "I'll review the paperwork and have it back on Dawlish's desk by four."

"What? That's not—” Blaise rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling. "I asked when you'll be cleared to go back to your regular division." He sits back. "Or whether you'd even want to, given the way you're glaring daggers at Potter."

Blaise gives Draco a predatory smile, like a Crup after a bone. Draco reminds himself to be careful what he wishes for. 

"I'm not glaring daggers at Potter," Draco says, doing his best not to look at the table where Harry sits with Granger and several others from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

"Huh. Well, I'm not sure why Potter keeps looking this way, then."

Draco straightens up quickly, his head snapping in Harry's direction. He feels his cheeks heat when Harry brightens and gives Draco a tentative smile and wave. He's about to wave back when he sees Ian Saunders, one of the other Aurors in their division, wind an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"My mistake," Blaise says blandly as Draco grinds his teeth. "You weren't glaring at Potter. You were glaring at Saunders."

"I can't believe they paired them together. Saunders is an arrogant tosser who spends more mental energy on what he's going to wear and who he's going to pull than the actual mission. Harry's too impulsive; he needs someone who sees the bigger picture, someone who can— "

"Someone like you?" Blaise asks with a smug grin.

"I'm relegated to paper pushing while Harry gets to stay with Special Ops. Plus, Harry was my partner first," Draco hisses. He ignores the way his stomach flutters at the word _partner_ and soldiers forth. "It's just this bloody bond," Draco finishes with a loud huff.

Blaise looks dubious but, thankfully, lets his original inquiry drop. "It's been almost two months since you both came back from Anglesey. You and Potter have been separated since. Don't you feel the bond lessening at all?"

Draco frowns. He gives up on his carrots (which look more like a puree at this point) and pushes away his tray. He should watch his intake, anyway; now that he's been placed on desk duty, the lack of physical activity has made itself painfully known. Today is the second time he's had to use a tailoring charm on the waistband of his trousers.

"I don't know," he answers truthfully. "I'm tired and moody. I miss my real job." It’s probably best if Draco doesn't mention his strong urge to wrap Harry in his arms whenever he sees him.

"When's your next visit with Luna?"

Draco sighs. He wonders if she'll ever sign off on his clearance. "Next Tuesday."

"Draco." Blaise lowers his voice, his sympathetic gaze a warning that Draco might not like what follows. "Even if you're cleared to return to your regular assignment— which is a big 'if'— there's no guarantee you'll be paired again with Potter. They might pair you with Templeton or even Saunders as a precaution."

"I know." His response sounds miserable, even to Draco's own ears. After all the years of wishing to be respected and befriended by Harry Potter, Draco was finally in a position, as Harry's partner, to have that and more. The fact that they're now required to remain apart in order to dissolve a magically created bond is a twist of fate he couldn't see coming.

Cruel Fortune, indeed.

**_November_ **

In Draco's experience, Healers' offices come in two types: a) sophisticated and pretentious, filled with expensive but impersonal decor and a wall covered by diplomas, or b) studiedly unfussy, with mismatched furniture and a smattering of plants and personal items as if to say _hey, trust me, I'm one of you._ It comes as no surprise that Luna's office falls firmly in the latter camp, although she's possibly the sole Healer in all of Britain where the decor’s a true extension of her personality.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Luna watches him with a non-committal smile. His chart lays open on her desk in front of her, but there's no quill in sight.

Draco squirms in his seat. The chair looks cozy, but it's a bit too soft for his liking. The cushion sags, and it makes it bloody difficult to get up. "I'm fair. Though I'd feel a lot better once you clear me to go back to work."

"You _are_ working though, aren't you?" Luna asks.

Draco's eyes narrow. "Since you're the one who is signing my medical release and giving the Ministry a list of my restrictions, I'm assuming you know the answer to that. I meant doing my real job. The one for which I willingly went through four years of torture to do."

Luna turns back a page in his file. "How have you been sleeping?"

"I get plenty of sleep. At least eight hours a night, which is three more than I typically had before this bond." Draco hesitates before coming clean. "I still feel tired, though."

Luna gives him an understanding nod. "It's probably an aftereffect of your forced separation from Harry."

"Is it going to get better?" Draco decidedly does not whimper.

"It should, if it hasn't already." Luna's brow furrows and she looks at Draco, her gaze sharpening. "Has it not?"

Draco thinks on the question for a bit, unsure of how to answer. It's been seven weeks since he woke up at St Mungo's, where the Healers had determined that he and Harry were the unintended victims of a bonding spell. However, aside from the frequent, surreptitious glances Harry's been casting whenever he thinks Draco's not looking (to be fair, Draco finds himself looking at Harry _a lot),_ Harry seems to be coping quite well, while Draco—

"Maybe it's emotional fatigue. My frustration with not being as active as I once was."

"Even though you're not in your regular position with the Aurors, it doesn't mean you can't be physically active. Have you been running? Sparring? Doing the usual things you do to stay in shape?"

"Yes. Though perhaps not as intensely as before," Draco concedes.

"Because of the fatigue?" Luna asks. When Draco nods, she continues. "How is your appetite?"

He had tea and toast for breakfast. A cucumber sarnie, an apple, and water for lunch. "It's been better. But I must be eating well enough because my trousers barely fit." His cheeks flame and he waves off his embarrassment as Luna's eyes widen. "Again, the relative decrease in physical activity."

Luna remains quiet for a moment, taking the time to flip through Draco's folder. "You were admitted to St Mungo's on September 7 after Harry Apparated you both from Llanddwyn Island."

These were facts culled from Harry's report and a matter of Ministry record. Draco sits forward in his seat, letting out a sound of frustration as he sinks back into the cushion. "You knew all of this when we started."

Luna nods vigorously, her blonde curls bobbing as her glasses slip down her nose. "I did, but now, given the timing, and this…" She gets up from her seat and paces back and forth, tapping her chin. "You spent several days at Bryn Celli Ddu as well. With Harry?"

Draco tries not to let his temper show. After all, he needs Luna's signature on his clearance forms. "Of course, with Harry. We were partnered on a mission."

"Oh, my." Luna turns on her heel and makes her way to Draco's chair, kneeling before him. "And you're more tired than usual, eating less while your clothes aren't fitting as well?" She draws out her wand. "Will you permit me to do a diagnostic spell?"

"To test the strength of the bond?"

"Well… yes. But also to test the integrity of the bond and its, um, physical characteristics." Luna appears flustered, which is a first.

Draco frowns. "This isn't going to hurt me, is it?"

"No! No, of course not," Luna is quick to respond.

Draco nods. "Well, have at it, then."

Luna weaves her wand in an intricate pattern. Its tip hovers over Draco's belly and then his chest and his heart. Wisps of pale blue light shimmer around them, and Draco finds their glow strangely soothing. There's a warmth associated with the spell, too. It's unlike one he's ever felt before, yet despite its unfamiliarity, he finds himself drawn to its gentle power.

"Well?" he asks once Luna finishes, the faint residue of magic still lingering in the air. "What's the verdict? Can I return to work tomorrow?"

Luna pulls up a chair and sits beside him instead of making her way back to her desk. In retrospect, that should have been a clue.

"You may," she says, her words measured. "But not in Special-Ops. At least, not for another seven months."

"Seven months?" Draco stands, his anger finally propelling him out of the damn seat. "Why so long? How could you possibly know that I won't be able to go back for _seven more months?"_

"Because the average length of a pregnancy is nine months," Luna says quietly.

Draco's jaw drops. It's a good thing that his chair is well-cushioned because he falls into it like a stone weight. "What does pregnancy have to do with me or the bonding spell?" he squeaks in disbelief. He's been uncharacteristically celibate for the past ten months— ever since he was partnered with Harry— and his sexual partners have been exclusively male for _years._

"The spell that was cast on you in Anglesey… well, it _was_ a bonding spell, but... bonding spells take different forms. There are familial bonds, soul bonds, and love bonds. The way these bonds manifest, however, are varied, depending on the spell and the desires of the bonded. There have always been stories of male pregnancies— "

"Myths," Draco clarifies, feeling faint.

_"Anecdotal reports_ that have been recorded in the annals of Wizarding history," Luna corrects. "Male pregnancies are rare, indeed, and require a nearly perfect confluence of events: powerful magic, wish-fulfillment, and serendipity. You've been partnered with Harry for the better part of the year, but more than that, the two of you have had a long and tangled history. And there’s no question that the two of you are magically strong. You come from a long line of pureblood wizards, one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, while Harry is one of the most powerful wizards alive."

“Harry and I are only partnered professionally. There's nothing else going on between us," Draco protests.

"You and Harry possess incredible magical potential, power that's significant individually and formidable when paired." Draco remains silent; it was a statement and not a question. "You were sent to Bryn Celli Ddu, one of the most sacred ritual sites of the Druids, a location that could be a focus for both your powers. And then you were at Llanddwyn, where the spell was cast, after which Harry Apparated you to St Mungo's."

"I still don't know how we stumbled onto the spell. Templeton and Saunders had secured the area days before. It was clear of any Dark Magic. And Harry and I cast a Revealing Charm before entering; there wasn't anyone within a twenty-mile radius." Draco is confident about the strength and accuracy of his spellcasting.

"There wasn't?" Luna hums, her eyes innocent. "What about you and Harry?"

Draco sputters. "Well, of course. Aside from me and Harry."

"What do you remember about Llanddwyn Island, Draco? Not from your briefings with the Aurors, but from Professor Binns?"

Draco crosses his legs and thinks. Ninety-nine percent of what went on in Binns' class is a blank. "It was named after St Dwynwen." He shrugs, unsure as to where all this is leading as Luna watches closely, urging him on.

She gives in when Draco doesn't offer anything more. "St Dwynwen is the Welsh patron saint of lovers, one of twenty-four daughters of the prince of Brycheiniog. Dwynwen fell in love with Maelon Dafodrill, but her love was denied as she was promised to another. Wishing to be freed from her predicament, Dwynwen was visited by an angel and given a potion; however, when she took the potion, it turned Maelon into ice.

"Dwynwen pleaded with God, and in return God granted her three wishes: that Maelon be revived; that she should never marry; and that all true lovers find the happiness of their hopes and dreams. Llanddwyn became Dwynwen's home, where she remained devoted to God for the rest of her life.

"So now we return to Dwynwen's last wish: the hopes and dreams of lovers. Although Harry isn't here, I know him, and he's made no secret of his desire for love and family. What about you, Draco? In your heart of hearts, was there something you hoped for that could have triggered the bonding spell on Llanddwyn Island?"

Draco closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. His feelings for Harry have been long and convoluted, but there's no question there's been a common thread that's underlied all their interactions, a pull that caused him to reach out for Harry's hand when they first met at Madame Malkin's seventeen years ago.

_Fucking fuckery._ "So you're saying that the bonding spell was triggered by me and Harry. And that the result of it is that I'm pregnant," Draco wheezes.

Luna nods, her stance softening.

Draco instinctively places his hand over his belly. He had entertained the idea of surrogacy, but never would have thought that he could have a biological child with a man whom he loved. It's amazing and intensely overwhelming.

A thought crosses his mind. It makes him flinch as the bond aches and wavers, but he asks Luna anyway.

"And what if I wish to terminate the pregnancy?" Draco can't look into her eyes.

"Draco… it is not my place to influence you one way or another. It is _your_ body, _your_ life, and only you can decide what is ultimately right for you." Her voice is filled with understanding and absent of any censure, and Draco finally has the courage to meet her gaze. "I'd like to consult Healer Chang. She specialises in high-risk pregnancies. She can provide guidance as to the safest time if you choose to terminate and the methods available to you. If you wish to put the baby up for adoption, she can also put you in touch with the appropriate Wizarding agencies."

"Okay." Draco rubs his hand softly over his belly. He knows he shouldn't— he doesn't want to grow too attached, to become too emotionally invested in a person he might not share a future with. But it's hard not to think of having his own family, of showering his child with love and a greater understanding of the world.

Luna interrupts his musings. "Draco? I do want to caution you… this is a rare and extraordinary spell. It requires the truth of lovers, along with a genuine hope and desire to fulfill. And, as such, it also requires powerful magic to sustain."

Draco looks at her unhappily. "So one of the reasons I've been feeling so tired and unwell is not only because I'm pregnant, but because Harry and I were trying to sever our bond."

"Yes. The amount of magical energy required to sustain any pregnancy is significant, and for a male, even more so." Luna's answer is emphatic and unequivocal. "If you choose to continue on with your pregnancy, Draco, it's best to tell Harry now. Not only for your own sake, but for the health of your baby. I can't emphasise this enough."

**_December_ **

Draco's friendship with Pansy has weathered the darkest of times and this one is no different. After all, only a true friend would hold back your robes willingly as you sick up over a bowl.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call Healer Chang?" Pansy asks as she brushes back the hair from his face. In return, he retches, thankfully coming up empty.

Draco shakes his head as he tries to stand, legs wobbling like a newborn calf’s. "I don't want any potions," he says, grabbing the glass of water from the vanity and rinsing out his mouth. He never liked taking them to begin with, and there's much about the spell that's uncertain. He's certainly not going to bollocks things up, especially since he's on shaky ground.

"What did you eat this morning?"

Draco grimaces. Briefly, he wonders if he can outrun Pansy. "I, um, didn't. I managed to hold down a bit of boiled chicken and rice last night, though." He straightens up from the sink, thankful as the wave of dizziness and sweating subsides. "I'm still experiencing a lot of food aversions," he says, punctuating the statement with an indelicate swipe of the back of his hand over his mouth.

Pansy's eyes widen with concern. "Is the baby okay? What did Chang say on your last checkup?"

Draco drags his feet as he heads towards the bedroom. "That everything looked as it should for a 10-week old." Though her words for Draco's own well-being were a bit less optimistic.

Pansy follows doggedly on his heels. "Then why aren't your symptoms improving? When Daphne was pregnant with Liam, her morning sickness was much better by now. Aren't the visits with Harry helping?"

Draco sighs, bracing for the inevitable. "First, everyone's different. Plus, you're comparing apples to oranges. You can tell me how long I should feel this way once there's another wizard who’s been up the duff." He pauses, chewing his lower lip. "And in answer to your second question, I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean, you wouldn't know?" Pansy’s voice doubles in volume, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Circe, I don’t care if Potter is the Saviour and the Holy Father rolled into one, if he’s ignoring you—" Draco looks away and her anger twists into something resembling pity. "Oh, darling. You never told him." She makes a distressed sound then pulls him close, her fingers running over the strands of his hair.

Draco allows himself to burrow into her embrace, the physical contact lessening some of his discomfort. "I don't know how to, Pans," he whispers into her sleeve. "It took me weeks to make the decision to go ahead with the pregnancy. Without his input, I might add. And now, I don't want him to feel trapped by my decision."

"But yours is a dangerous pregnancy. There's no way you should be doing it alone."

"I'm not alone. I have you and Blaise," Draco says mulishly.

"Of course you do. But our friendship isn't going to be enough to satisfy the bond and it's certainly not going to be enough for the baby." Pansy looks at him side-eyed. "I bet you haven't told your parents yet."

A muscle in Draco's right cheek twitches. "Right. Because _that_ will go over well."

"They're going to find out. You can't hide this forever. And the more support you have, the better."

"Things were just starting to change with Harry," Draco says, fatigue overwhelming him as he sits on the bed. "We work so well as a team, our strengths and weaknesses complementing each other— "

The mattress dips as Pansy joins him. "Hold on. Did you just admit to a weakness?" she teases.

It brings a small smile to his lips as Draco nudges her playfully. "It's more than that. The night before we left Bryn Celli Ddu... we got pissed on cheap wine. I kissed him." He touches his lips as he remembers the soft weight of Harry's mouth on his. "Then I told him that I had a pash on him."

Pansy wraps an arm around Draco's waist. "What did he say?"

"I don't think he did," Draco says with a shaky laugh. "I caught him by surprise and tried to save face by playing it off as a passing, schoolboy crush." He picks up a pillow and places it on his lap. Its solidity is strangely comforting. "Luna said the spell was instigated by a wish. What if I was the one who got us into this mess, Pans? I can't trap Harry like that." He buries his head in the pillow.

"I thought the bonding spell took into account both your wishes."

Draco lifts up his head. "Harry wants a family. It doesn't mean he wants one with me," he says, picking at the hem of his robe. "I had a plan. I was going to woo Harry with my dashing charm and some earth-shattering sex. We’d fall madly in love, spend a year or two being sickeningly domestic, then get married and start a family."

Pansy hides a smile. “One out of five’s not bad.”

“Pansy! This is serious!”

"I'm sorry. It's just… only you would do everything backwards," Pansy says with a fond laugh. 

"The last thing I want to do is to take that choice from him."

"You're not giving him _any_ choice in the matter, though. If you do and Harry's too blind to see what's in front of him, Blaise and I will hex off his balls and do everything we can to help you. But you need to talk to him, Draco, not just for you but also for your child."

"I know," Draco says ruefully. It's not anything he hasn't already thought about a million times over.

Pansy holds him a little tighter. "And here's the tough love. You are my dearest friend, and I won't sit by and watch you suffer because you're too stubborn to do the right thing. I'm giving you exactly one week to tell Harry the truth."

Draco arches a brow. "Or…?"

At least she has the decency to look regretful. "Or I will."

*****

There are few things as terrifying and arousing as an angry Harry Potter. Especially when said Harry Potter is stalking towards Draco like a Seeker to a Snitch, heedless of the whispers in the Ministry hallways, his square jaw set in a firm line and green eyes glittering.

"Woah. Where's the fire, Potter?" Blaise asks from Draco's side.

Harry wraps his fingers around Draco's arm. Draco knows how powerful Harry is— he's admired the muscular definition of Harry's impressive forearms on more than one occasion— but he's not prepared for the way Harry's fingers dig into his flesh.

"Look here," Blaise warns as Draco lets out a whimper. 

"I need to talk to Draco. Alone," Harry says, his gaze never leaving Draco's.

"It's okay, Blaise. Really," Draco says, as much to convince himself as it is to ease Blaise's doubtful expression.

"We're meeting Pansy for dinner."

They have no plans, but Draco appreciates the lengths to which Blaise will go to give him an out, even when faced with a narked off Harry.

"I'll be there." There's a steady pull in Draco's gut that grows increasingly stronger; right now, all he wants to do is to run into Harry's arms and rub himself all over his robes.

Blaise's face does a complicated dance. When Draco remains in place, Blaise sighs.

"Don't forget. We've dinner in half an hour," he says once more before leaving.

"When were you going to tell me?" Harry asks, turning Draco around once Blaise is out of earshot. His expression twists into something sad and disappointed as he trails his hands down Draco's sides. "Are you feeling okay? Is there anything I can do?"

_Keep touching me,_ Draco thinks. His body craves Harry's presence and he thinks the baby does, too. He's flooded with a rush of endorphins, the fatigue and nausea of the last five weeks vanished. He feels like he's downed a bottle of _Felix Felicis,_ and he can't even be arsed to care that it's only been four days and not seven since Pansy gave him the ultimatum. 

"I can't believe Pansy told you I was pregnant," Draco says with a punched out moan as he sinks into Harry's touch. "I wanted to tell you, you know. I just hadn't figured out how to yet."

The speed with which Harry separates from Draco is like getting thrown into the frigid waters of the Great Lake.

"You're… you're what?" Harry says, face pale as Draco sways towards him. He reaches out to steady Draco by the elbow even as Draco's mind is saying _retreat, retreat._ "What do you mean, you're pregnant?"

Draco feels his hackles rise at the look of horror on Harry's face. "What do _you_ mean, _when was I going to tell you?_ Tell you what, exactly?"

Harry throws his hands up and lets out an exasperated sound. "That you weren't coming back until the end of summer. I only found out because Saunders told me, and I swear, if I have to spend any more time with the wanker we're going to have one less Auror in the department.”

_Harry doesn't like Saunders, either._

Harry scowls as Draco grins."Wait. Don't change the subject. You're _pregnant._ How is that even possible?" His expression softens and he looks at Draco, eyes strangely wistful. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone."

Draco grabs the front of Harry's robes. Harry stares down at Draco's hand but doesn't ask him to take it away. "I'm not. Not seeing anyone, that is. As it turns out, you don't need one for the other. Do you… do you think we can go somewhere more private to talk?" He tilts his head towards the crowd, noting the curious looks their colleagues are throwing in their direction.

"Yes. Er…" Harry rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Saunders is using the office. Do you want to come over to mine?"

Draco shakes his head. He doesn't trust himself to Apparate, and though he’s been to Grimmauld Place recently, he'd rather have this discussion on neutral ground. "Puccino's?"

Harry nods. He takes Draco’s hand and shoulders his way through the packed halls, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea. It's as if he's untouchable—too incredible, too good— and even though Draco's been privileged to get a peek at the real Harry, he knows, especially now, exactly what they're feeling.

*****

"I thought you were sick."

Harry's stirring the same cup of coffee he's been nursing since they arrived. Draco, on the other hand, is on his third cup of decaf tea and polishing off a turkey and avocado BLT, his appetite having returned with a vengeance.

"I wasn't exactly feeling well," Draco says through a mouthful of food. "In fact, this is the first time I've been able to hold anything down since we returned from Anglesey."

Harry watches the way Draco finishes off his sarnie and nods dubiously. "Right. So I'm assuming that… well. That the effects of our bond have worn off enough for you to become pregnant." He looks pained, as if each word is costing him great effort.

_Oh._ Draco stops mid-chew once he realises he hasn't told Harry anything besides the fact that he's pregnant. A fact that was blurted out in a flurry of misunderstandings and miscommunication.

He pushes his plate and cup out of reach. He'll need to give Harry his undivided attention.

"The bond has not worn off," he says, pressing a napkin to his lips. "In fact, it's only grown stronger."

Harry's relief is visible. "Thank Merlin," he says, his face sheepish. "I thought something was wrong with me. I couldn't sleep the other night, went for a ride and found myself near your place. Do you know how hard it's been for me to stay away?"

Draco allows himself a small smile. "I think I have an idea." He takes a deep breath and swallows. _Here goes nothing._ "It's been hard for our baby, too."

"Because of everything you've been going through, right? Trying to break the bond and— " Harry's face morphs from consternation into shock. "Oh my god. Oh my fucking god," Harry says, scrubbing his face, his hands shaking. _"Our_ baby? Are you saying that… that the spell... that _I'm_ the baby's father?"

Draco nods. _"Other_ father."

Harry lets out a long exhale. "Bloody hell."

The thing is, Harry looks… well, happy. He looks a bit dazed, stuck somewhere between bewildered and ecstatic.

Draco tells Harry Luna's theories regarding the pregnancy as well as the latest updates from his visits with Cho. "I don't expect anything from you," Draco finishes, lowering his voice. "Anything more than you're willing to give, anyway. I've already decided that I want this child, and Blaise and Pansy are more than willing to help. I know it's not in your plans, and I certainly don't want to upend your life. "

Harry stares. "You don't want me to be a part of— "

"That's not what I meant! I do!" Draco groans in frustration; of course, now would be the time his words fail him. "I do," he repeats earnestly. "Anything you're willing to give. It's just that… I know it's a lot to process. It took me several weeks before I could even think of myself as a father. But by then, it was getting harder to deny the truth." He opens up the fold of his robes and shows Harry the very faint swell of his belly that's visible under his shirt.

Harry grips his mug. "I can't believe you've known for weeks,” he states flatly, unable to tear his eyes away from Draco's belly.

Draco lets the drape of his robes fall back into place and sighs. "I was feeling unwell, scared, and uncertain. I needed time to think about what I truly wanted, and then I was trying and failing to think of the right way to tell you."

For the first time since Draco told him the explosive news, Harry looks angry. "You weren't feeling well. You said so yourself. Even if you couldn't tell me the reason, you should have come to me, to soothe the baby and the bond."

"I really do feel better when you're around," Draco admits.

"Do you think so little of me that I wouldn't want to help?" Harry asks, looking a bit like a kicked Crup.

"That's just it. Of course you would; I never thought otherwise. But I didn't want you to do so out of some sense of obligation."

Harry takes Draco's hand in his. He rubs absent-minded circles on the inside of Draco's wrist with his thumb and Draco just melts.

"That night? In Bryn Celli Ddu?" Harry pauses; Draco feels his face flame but he swallows and nods. "I didn't get a chance to say what I wanted because you laughed and said it was just a schoolboy crush. If I'd confessed my feelings, I would have embarrassed myself and ruined our working relationship. But the truth is that I want everything you want, too. I'm pretty sure it was my desire as much as yours that triggered the spell, and I want to be here for you. For both you and the baby. Not because I have to. Because I want to."

"That's... that's great. I'm glad," Draco says, his heart racing. As if Harry hadn't just given him the world on a silver platter.

Harry ducks his head. He continues to soothe the skin along Draco's wrist, so softly it creates butterflies in Draco's stomach. Still, Draco feels like he's skating on the edge of something momentous.

**December/January**

Several weeks later, Draco no longer marks the passage of time as "Before and After Christmas" but as "Before and After Harry".

He's not blind nor foolish enough to think that Harry's acceptance of the pregnancy will give him his happily-ever-after. He knows that they're jumping off a cliff, feet first, into dark and murky waters.

Still, he feels better, both physically and emotionally. It's hard to know how much of it is because the bond is stronger, or because Harry's magic is aiding the pregnancy, or because Harry’s visits satisfy the most basic human need for acceptance and companionship.

It's probably an equal amount of all three.

Now, instead of suffering through bouts of morning sickness and poor appetite, Draco finds himself managing at least three meals a day. Like the chicken broth Harry cooks for Draco from scratch. And shopping for the nursery has turned into something fun rather than a chore, if only for the fact that Draco gets to watch Harry squirm quietly while Draco pretends to pick out the fussiest and most pretentiously hand-carved crib in existence (he settles for a classic and cleanly designed cotbed instead).

His favourite thing so far, however, is the first time Harry accompanies Draco on his visit with Cho.

To Cho's credit, she doesn't bat an eyelash at the revelation of Draco's baby daddy. Instead, she brings Harry up to speed on the stage of Draco's pregnancy (fifteen weeks already!), what to expect (heartburn and dizziness and forgetfulness, how delightful), and the importance of maintaining a well-balanced diet and light physical activity. She addresses Harry's questions regarding the delivery (a scheduled Caesarean, performed by a team of experts including herself, Luna, and a neonatologist).

But the best part of the visit is when Cho performs a _Specialis Revelio_ along with a Muggle ultrasound. The baby's magical signature is stronger than ever and they’re quite the mover and shaker.

“She’s so active today,” Draco says as he watches his child curl their toes on the screen.

“It’s a girl?” Harry leans forward to take a closer look, squinting at the grainy image.

“Um…” Draco feels his cheeks heat. 

Cho laughs. “It’s a bit too early to tell. Perhaps in a couple of weeks. But I agree, Draco, the baby is very active today. I think they’re putting on a show for the special occasion. See?” Cho says as the baby turns their head on the screen, lips visible as it forms an ‘O’. She pushes a button on the ultrasound machine.

Harry lowers his head and smiles. He still seems to be finding his place— wanting to be supportive but not stepping on Draco's toes— but he can't seem to help himself when Cho prints out a picture of the ultrasound and holds it out.

"You can have it," Draco says magnanimously.

"I can print another copy," Cho says.

Harry just looks at Draco like he's given Harry the best present in the world.

(Second best, maybe. After all, Draco _is_ carrying their baby).

"Thank you," Harry says. He takes the picture and studies it, holding it in front of him as if it were the Philosopher’s Stone itself. "Is it all right if I show this to Ron and Hermione?"

Draco nods, unable to burst Harry's hopeful bubble. He’s glad Harry's not treating this like some dirty little secret. And he can't help but preen when, in the following weeks, he sees Harry taking the picture out from his wallet at work, looking at it while wearing a goofy grin, enough times that it becomes faded and smudged and creased at the edges.

Of course, not everything goes as smoothly. 

They're not exactly a couple, per se, but the fact that they're having a baby together automatically widens their social circle. It's the reason why Harry has joined Draco for dinner and brunch with Pansy and Blaise (a singular event, so far, for both. Baby steps; Draco can only handle his friends' innuendos regarding his horribly obvious crush on Harry in small doses).

As many people as Harry knows, there are few that are truly in his inner circle, and Draco knows most of them from Hogwarts. He sees Hermione at work; they have a cordial, professional relationship. Things with Ron, on the other hand, are frostier. Weasley has joined his wife, Harry, and Draco at the Leaky Cauldron for happy hour— part-date night, part-reminder that life is more than just paycheques and spit up and nappies. It's an easy trip from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to the Leaky; Draco wonders whether the rest of the day is as painless, given the fact that Weasleys' was never meant to be George and _Ron's._

Harry says that Ron is happy there, though. Much happier than Ron had been as an Auror. Draco remembers Rita Skeeter's article in the _Prophet_ in which she accused Ron of fleeing the Aurors in order to escape Harry's shadow. Draco doesn't think anyone can truly escape Harry's brightness, although they might shine just as well on their own.

It's an indication of just how much influence Harry holds amongst his friends that Draco receives an invitation to spend New Year's Eve at the Granger-Weasleys. He's prepared for the inevitable awkward politeness and not-so-polite awkwardness, and it's with great relief when, an hour later, he's done his due diligence and squirrelled himself away in the large corner chair with Harry.

"Excuse me?" There's a pint-sized terror holding two glasses in front of her, looking at Draco with unabashed curiosity. "Mum says that I should give you this."

Draco looks at Harry, who gives him an imperceptible nod, and then reaches out for a glass.

"Nuh uh," the girl says, snatching it away. For a moment, Draco thinks the cruelty of children starts even earlier than he realises, until she hands him the other glass. "You're supposed to take the one on the left. This one’s for Harry."

"Is there poison in the one you gave me?" Draco mutters under his breath as Harry chuckles.

The little girl hears him (because of _course_ she does) and shakes her head vehemently.

"Mum says to give you the one without alcohol in it. Because you shouldn't drink alcohol when you're pregnant.” She bites her lip; for the first time, she looks uncertain. “And because if she had to suffer when she had me, you should, too." 

Draco feels his cheeks flame as Harry snorts in laughter. "Your mum said all that, did she?" Draco takes the glass from her as she stands proudly and nods and takes a sip. It's a fizzy apple drink that tastes surprisingly good.

"Thank you, Rose," Harry says as he takes the second glass.

Rose wipes the flat of her palms against the front of her skirt. It leaves a small damp mark on the flowery print, next to a spaghetti stain, her bunched up tights peeking out from under the hem. There's a bandage printed with images of a furry red monster with an orange nose stuck to the front of her shoe. The whole effect is horrifying and absolutely adorable.

"So. You're going to have a baby? Like when Mum had me?" Rose stares at Draco, her eyes zeroing in on Draco's belly, pursing her lips as if trying to suss out the situation. Draco can hear the gears of her imagination at work, and there's no question that Rose is a clone of her formidable mother.

"Yes," Draco responds. He lays his left hand across his belly, which is bulging out softly from under his robes. "In June, if all goes well."

"Mum says that it's very special for a daddy to give birth."

Draco hesitates. "The baby is special to me and Harry in the same way you and your cousins are special to your parents," he says, choosing his words carefully. He doesn't want to lie, but he knows first-hand the danger of bestowing labels that have yet to be earned.

"You're right, though, Rose," Harry says. "Draco has to be extra careful because the baby and Draco's pregnancy are different from most." He lays his hand on Draco's. It's warm and reassuring, and the touch of it settles something inside Draco.

Rose scrunches up her little nose. "Dad says it's because nature got tired of you pfaffing about with your feelings, Harry," she proclaims as Harry chokes.

"Really?" Draco asks. He arches a brow as Harry waves his hands, signalling Rose to stop. "What else did your Dad say?"

"You are _terrible,"_ Harry gasps. "Pimping a child for information!"

"It's 'pumping', not 'pimping'. Merlin, I worry about what you'll be teaching our child," Draco says, rubbing his belly in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

Rose rocks forward in her Mary Jane shoes. Her blue eyes widen as she stares at the pattern Draco's hand is making. "So when the baby is born, you and Harry and it will be a family."

Harry turns bright red. Draco is sure it has nothing to do with the wine. "Er..." Harry scratches the back of his neck.

Draco would give anything to have alcohol right about now. "There are different kinds of families, Rose. But Harry, the baby, and I will definitely be one."

Rose blows out a breath and turns to Harry. "So are you going to move in with Draco? Or are Draco and the baby going to move in with you?"

Draco looks at Harry. They'd been treading cautiously, afraid of upsetting the delicate balance. Draco knows they have a lot of things to discuss— co-parenting duties, what they mean to one another, and what they want to be— before even tackling something like living arrangements. For now, Draco has been happy just to have Harry in his life.

"We haven't decided yet. It's a really important decision. But it doesn't matter because either way, we'll be there for each other and the baby," Harry finishes gamely.

Rose nods. "Because you and Draco love each other, right? That's why it doesn't matter where you live," she concludes as Harry looks at Draco helplessly.

"Rose!" Hermione runs over, several loose strands of hair wriggling out from her updo. "I'm sorry. She's exceedingly curious and Ron and I have encouraged her inquisitiveness, I'm afraid." She bends down and brushes a kiss on Rose's forehead. "Time and place, sweetheart."

"I don't mind. She didn't ask anything inappropriate," Draco says as Rose crosses her arms in front of her chest to give Hermione an _I-told-you-so_ grin.

"It's almost time. Do you want to round up your cousins so we can ring in the New Year together?" Hermione asks Rose.

Rose's face lights up with excitement. She turns, clearly having tired of Draco and Harry's company. "Bye Harry! Bye Draco!" she says, scampering out the door.

"How long before she crashes?" Harry asks, unable to hide his grin.

Hermione smooths the hair back from her face. "Probably one second past midnight." She sounds tired but it's tempered by the fondness in her eyes. When Harry laughs, she waves him away. "Just wait. This will be your life before you know it."

"But it's worth it," Draco observes.

"Absolutely." Hermione shakes out her dress and sighs. "I should probably see what Rose is up to. Happy New Year to you both."

Harry moves in a little closer to Draco once Hermione leaves. He's so close, close enough that Draco can smell the warm, spicy notes of Harry's aftershave and the sharp, fruity scent of his wine. "Rose has a point, you know."

Draco thinks back on their conversation. "And that would be?"

"That we're going to be a family. We might have done things arse backwards, but since when did you and I do things properly, anyway?"

"You're going to be an amazing father. The baby is lucky to have you." Harry hasn't promised anything else, and Draco is careful not to include himself in the sentiment.

The thing with Harry is that he's much smarter than people give him credit for. 

"You know what my biggest regret is about this whole thing?" Harry asks. Draco tries to tamp down the anxiety that rises within him, because 'biggest' implies there's more than one and he's not sure where Harry is going with this. "It's that we didn't have a chance to see if we could be _Harry and Draco_ before we became _Harry and Draco and the baby._ But it doesn't mean we can't try. I like shopping for things for our child but that's not all I want to do. I want to take you to dinner. Go to the movies, or take in a Quidditch match or a concert. Do all these things that have nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with you."

"Pretty words," Draco says. He tries for casual but probably fails by a mile.

"They're more than just words. But if you need some convincing…" Harry takes Draco's chin in his hand and leans in. His cheeks are flushed, and though he's had several drinks throughout the evening, his eyes are incredibly clear. He looks to Draco, as if asking for permission, and when Draco nods— barely, imperceptibly— Harry closes the gap with his lips.

The kiss is sweet and warm and slightly messy, yet it's beyond perfect. There's no denying the way Draco's heart quickens in response or the warmth that spreads from his chest. Harry must feel something similar because he lets out a low groan, the faint scratch of his stubble teasing the line of Draco's jaw.

"I've wanted to do that for months," Harry says softly as they draw apart. "In case you didn't get the message."

Draco nuzzles Harry's cheek. "Hmm. I'm not sure I did. Perhaps you could tell me once more?"

This time, instead of a kiss that's soft and chaste, Harry kisses Draco with purpose and heat. There's a hint of tongue, and if they weren't in a place surrounded by other revellers and children, it could have devolved into something much filthier. But it's a kiss that's as much a promise as it is a provocation, and as the clock strikes midnight to welcome in the New Year, Draco's not sure if the bells he's hearing are the ones outside or the ones in his heart.

**_February_ **

Draco loves Pansy, he truly does. She's his oldest friend and their families have known each other forever. He might adore her even more than Blaise. Right now, however, he wants to be as far away from her as possible.

"Really, Pans," Draco drawls as Pansy holds up a pair of lacy knickers held together by a pink strap and gold rings. "I don't think Theo will mind if the ribbons are red or puce. It's going to end up on the floor, anyway."

"Do you think it's too much?" she asks, frowning at the panel covered decorated with Leavers lace.

Draco knows she's not referring to the £145 price tag.

"Any less, and we can go to Boots and pick up some dental floss instead."

She whacks him on the side of his sleeve with the thong. "It's Valentine's Day. I just want everything to be special."

Draco's eyes widen in surprise at the seriousness in her tone. "Every day's special with you, darling. I'm more surprised by the fact that you've put up with Theo for five years."

Pansy lets out a small laugh but it sounds vaguely bitter. "His parents weren't in favour of us being married. And even though they're accepting of it now, I can't help but wonder…" Pansy bites her lip and looks uncharacteristically vulnerable. "So many of our friends are starting families. And we've been trying for the past two years, with great enthusiasm. At least, at first," Pansy adds as Draco's mouth opens in shock. "But, so far, no luck."

Draco stutters. He wishes he knew how to make things better. "Have you met with a Healer?"

"Theo met with a urologist last month and every test they've run has come back normal. So we're meeting with a reproductive endocrinologist in two weeks." Pansy bites her lip. "What if it's me, Draco? What if the reason we can't have a child is because I'm… defective?"

Draco shakes his head. He had no idea what Pansy was going through, or why she thought it necessary to keep such a large secret, carry such a great burden, without his support. He snatches the lingerie from her hand, shoves it back onto the display rack, and pulls her into a hug.

"My beautiful, sweet Pansy," he murmurs into her hair. Despite Pansy's bravado, she's never had great self-esteem. Draco knows firsthand what it's like to live with a constant reminder of one's shortcomings, and how tenuous and undeserving any happiness can seem. "If I've been so self-absorbed in my own problems that I've made you feel as if you couldn't come to me, I am so very sorry. I am here for you, always.

"And Theo loves you. Do you know how many hours Blaise and I had to spend with him while he was trying to screw up the courage to propose? Not because he was afraid of leaving bachelorhood and all that nonsense. But because he couldn't imagine a life without you if you'd said 'no'."

"Really?" Pansy asks, sniffling against Draco's shoulder.

"Really."

"He's the best." 

"He is." Draco pulls back and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind Pansy's ear. "And that's why you'll get through this. Whether it's a matter of time or potions, or surrogacy or adoption, or even if you have a change of heart and decide having a child is not right for you, you'll make it work because both of you want to."

Pansy straightens and blinks back her tears. "I've been trying so hard, I've forgotten what's right in front of me," she admits.

"That's why you have me, love. Besides, we're Slytherins. We adapt and survive."

Pansy slips her hand into his as they move on to the next display. "I know, darling. But what if I want something more than mere survival? Yet I'm afraid of hoping because a part of me thinks I don't deserve it."

"You do. We do," Draco says. His voice, thankfully, doesn't waver even though Pansy gives thought to the worry the plagues him every day.

*

Draco tries not to think about the issues that have resurfaced after his afternoon with Pansy. He putters about his flat and rearranges things in the nursery, but aside from the essential items, it's surprisingly free of decoration. He hasn't learned the gender of the baby just yet— an uncharacteristic move for him, as he's always been organised, relishing order and control.

He's sure Harry is dying to know. He catches the way Harry looks at the ultrasound pictures intently, as if he can discern the answer on his own. But Draco's not ready— not ready to put the stamp on reality, a reality that will be devastating to deal with if it's suddenly gone.

He stumbles over something on the floor, then reaches for his wand to cast a Levitation Charm. He chuckles as the offending item floats up; it's one of Harry's gloves, though Draco has no idea how it ended up in the nursery. They spend their weekends together unless Harry's on assignment, and if he is, Harry will usually make it up by spending an extra evening with Draco on a weekday. It's never overnight; they haven't reached that level of intimacy just yet. But it's enough to appease the bond. Draco eats better, he sleeps better. He's in better spirits. 

It's the days in between, however, that are difficult to endure. And there are just so many of them. Draco hates that he's stuck at a desk job for four more months, and that he spends weekends watching the telly or shopping with Pansy while Harry's off chasing the bad guys. He can't even enjoy shopping since none of his clothes fit.

"Great," Draco mutters as he looks down at his pyjama pants. He tucks his thumbs under the elastic waistband and pulls gently, frowning as it stretches less than an inch. His skin, once pale and unblemished, now looks splotchy, painted with thin, purple lines along the sides of his hips and belly. He's tired, and feels as delicate as an Erumpent.

Draco shuffles towards the bathroom to pick up some cream. He's made it back to the foyer, the tube of StretcHeal in hand, when there's a knock on the door. He considers not answering it— all his friends have plans for tonight— but the knocking grows more insistent.

"What?" Draco huffs, brows drawn down in a scowl as he flings the door open with more force than necessary.

"Er… did I interrupt something?"

Harry stands in front of the doorway wearing a wool coat that fits him to a tee as well as a pair of faded jeans and chucks, His hair is rumpled and slightly damp, and he's clutching a shopping bag in one hand. He looks so unfairly handsome that it knocks Draco's breath away.

"Just a night with my hand and some cream," Draco adds, mortified at the innuendo as he holds up his stretch-fading cream.

And then promptly tears up. Damn magical pregnancy hormones. 

"Fuck, let's… can I come in?" Harry asks. Draco barely has time to nod before Harry's already inside. "What's wrong?"

Draco takes Harry's coat. "I don't know. Nothing. Everything." Draco sniffles as he casts a gentle Drying Charm over Harry. "If I have to file one more report for Saunders, I think I'm going to scream. I hate that he's your partner instead of me. I hate that I'm as big as a house and it's only been twenty-three weeks, and it's infuriating that I can't climb two flights of stairs without feeling winded. I'm tired... like, _really_ tired, and a big part of that is because I have to get up constantly throughout the night to pee. I hate that my arse will never again fit in my favourite jeans, and... Oh my god, are you laughing at me?" Draco's fingers twitch against the base of his wand.

Harry regards him with a sombre expression. "Draco Malfoy, I can tell you, in all seriousness, that you have, and will always have, a fabulous arse."

Draco stares. "I don't know whether I want to kiss you or hex you right now," he says as he hangs up the coat in the hall closet.

"I vote the former." When Draco turns, Harry leans in and catches the corner of Draco's mouth. His lips are still chilled from the February night but Draco's skin tingles from the imprint of it, anyway. "I'm sorry I didn't call first. I just came back from Würzburg; I wasn't sure if I'd be back in London in time for Valentine's Day and I didn't want to disappoint you. But I braved the storm bearing gifts." He holds out the shopping bag and wiggles his brow.

Draco puts down the tube of StretcHeal and takes the bag, trying to hide his eagerness. There's a pretty box inside containing several phials of bath oils and foot creams, and when he lifts up the layer of tissue, he finds a bathrobe and shearling-lined slippers underneath.

"Thank you," he says, wrapping his arms around Harry. "I'm going to spend every minute in these." He pulls out the slippers and waves them about, tamping down the urge to rub the soft woolen lining over his cheek. He kicks off his old pair of house slippers to try them on, but stops when he notices Harry staring.

"Oh," Draco says, his face heating. He follows the track of Harry's gaze to his uncovered feet, swollen and red with veins like road maps under his skin. He bends down— slowly and ungainly so— to cover them back up when Harry's face softens.

He helps Draco right himself. "Don't. Please."

Draco can feel the tears burning in the corner of his eyes and the scratchiness of his throat. "I hate that I feel like this," he says, his voice small.

Harry lets out a distressed noise and bridges the distance, taking Draco into his arms. His chest is firm and arms solid, and Draco feels some of the tension ebbing away as he sags against Harry's warmth.

"Let me make you feel better?" Harry says after a moment. When Draco gives him a tiny nod, Harry bends his knees, supports Draco behind his back and thighs, and lifts him up.

"What are you doing?" Draco says with a squawk.

Harry summons one of the foot creams then carries Draco to the sofa. "Something I should have done a long time ago," Harry says, sitting Draco down. He plumps up a pillow and positions it behind Draco's back, then sits next to him, propping Draco's feet on his lap. He pops off the tube of the foot cream as the room fills with the scent of peppermint and rosemary.

Draco hisses as the coolness of the lotion hits his skin. Harry begins to stroke, the gliding motions of his hand slowly deepening, his thumbs digging into the arch of Draco's feet.

"Does it hurt?" he asks as Draco's eyes roll.

"God, yes," Draco groans. "Don't stop." His eyes are closed, mouth unattractively half-open in bliss, but he couldn't care less.

"I should've known you'd be a glutton for punishment," Harry snickers.

Draco cracks open an eye. "I tolerate you, don't I?" The snark is lessened, however, when Harry rubs further along Draco's calf and Draco lets out a long, pleasured sigh of relief.

He closes his eyes again and finds himself drifting. There's a click as Harry pours more lotion, this time into his palms, followed by the sound of skin gliding against skin. Harry's breathing deepens as he works out the aches and knots in Draco's legs, the sound accompanied by the patter of the rain against the window and Draco's occasional grunts and moans.

Draco's not sure how much time has passed but when he opens his eyes, his feet and legs feel like they're warm and floating and Harry's watching him with a gentle expression.

"Thank you," Draco says, relaxed and dazed.

"You're welcome." Harry remains quiet for a moment, his hand resting on Draco's calf. "I wish you would let me do this more often."

Draco hums. "Let this be a blanket invitation for you to massage my feet as many times as you'd like."

Harry laughs, but it sounds cautious. "I mean… I love that we're spending time together, but… " He removes his glasses and scrubs his face. "I wish it were more."

Draco sits up, displacing Harry's hand. "We're having a _baby,_ Harry. How much more do you want?"

"No, it's not that, it's…" Harry waves his hand in the air.

Draco frowns. He has no idea what Harry is miming. "What— oh." _Oh. "_ You want to shag." They haven't done much aside from some fervent snogging. And it's not that Draco doesn't want to have sex with Harry; the pregnancy has been wreaking havoc on his already-healthy libido.

"What? No. I mean, yes, of course I do. But what I really wish is that I felt less like your 'date' and more like your 'partner'."

"Oh."

That's quite lovely, actually.

"Yes," Harry continues. "And being your partner means you trust me enough to tell me when you're not feeling well, or when you want to talk, or if you need help. I want to be a source of support for you, not just someone you're having fun with."

Draco wants so very much to say 'yes', especially when Harry's watching him like he is in that moment, so open and earnest. He's torn between giving into one of his greatest desires and his disappointment if everything falls apart.

"You're working even longer hours these days. I don't want to impose," he says, deflecting instead.

Harry gives him a look that makes Draco think Harry knows exactly what Draco is doing. "I have been," Harry concedes. "I'm trying to put in the hours now to save up for paternity leave. But I was thinking… if we were to live together..."

Draco straightens up suddenly. "You want us to live together. As a couple. For us to be _domestic,"_ he says gleefully as Harry's ears turn pink.

"Yes. So what do you think?"

Images of weekends spent doing the crossword together and nights poring over cases in the comfort of their home flash through Draco's mind. He also thinks of late morning cuddles, breakfast in bed, and Harry's incredible massages and knows he wants it all. Desperately.

Draco scoots himself forward as much as his belly allows him. "Stay with me," he whispers. He means for the night, but he also thinks he means forever.

**_March_ **

It is an unusually warm and sunny day for March, and Cho seems eager to match it in her demeanour.

"Everything's coming along nicely," she says as the remnants of Luna's diagnostic spell fade away. "The baby's magical signature is well-formed and exceptionally strong for twenty-eight weeks."

"And the bond between you both is the most settled it's been since Draco started seeing me," Luna adds, "which is also helpful for your baby. Have you been doing anything differently?"

Draco gives Harry a look. "We've been spending more time with one another."

He still can't believe the changes that have occurred over the past month. Nowadays, Harry is with him more often than not, even as Draco contemplates moving into Grimmauld Place. They've both maintained their separate residences until he comes to a decision, but it's enough to warrant Harry a separate closet of his own at Draco's as well as his very own toothbrush and coffee mug.

Luna gives them an approving nod. "That's good to know, especially since you'll be co-parenting. You may be partners at work, but learning to raise a child together requires strengths and compromises that are entirely different in nature. Giving yourself the time to learn those things will be healthy for the bond, the baby, and your own relationship."

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Cho asks as she makes some notations in his record.

"It's hard for me to finish an entire meal so I find myself grazing throughout the day. And I find myself napping when I get home from work."

Cho looks back at his last several visits. "The good news is that you're now at a healthy weight," she remarks. "It's not unusual to feel more comfortable with smaller meals throughout the day, given all the magical and hormonal changes that are occurring. Just make sure to drink plenty of fluids."

Harry shifts in his seat. "Are there any restrictions in activity Draco should know about?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "Harry means sex."

"I don't want to hurt Draco or the baby," Harry says, glaring.

"Sex in the third trimester can be fun and safe for you, your partner, and the baby," Cho says. "In fact, many women experience an increase in sexual desire at this point in their pregnancy so it would make sense that you would, too."

"There are other things you might notice when having sex while pregnant," Luna adds. "It will help strengthen the bond between you. Not just the magical bond— the emotional one, too. And for Draco, the intensity of your orgasms may be heightened from the increased blood flow to your pelvic region."

Draco's not sure if that's an advantage. He hasn't had sex with Harry yet, nothing more than snogging and and groping, but it's something he's fantasised about ever since they were in Hogwarts. Between the culmination of twelve years of pining and the bond and his heightened hormonal state, it will be a miracle if he doesn't spontaneously combust.

"Anything we should be careful not to do?" Harry persists.

Luna gives a thoughtful hum. "Although Draco and the baby are healthy, we still don't know the effect certain spells will have on the bond. So while there are no restrictions on the use of sex charms on Harry, I recommend Muggle ways of preparation for intercourse on Draco."

Normally, Draco is not shy in the least about his sexual preferences and kinks, but he and Harry haven't even shared a hand job, let alone discussed who might top or bottom. But from Harry's grin, it doesn't look like either will be a problem.

"Got it," Harry says with a huge smile.

"Regarding positions, Draco's comfort will be the limiting factor. Have fun experimenting with what works for you." Luna finishes.

Cho stands and turns towards the wall of books behind her. She pulls one out from the third shelf and flips through its pages. "Here are some possible examples," she says, placing it in front of them. "As Luna said, experiment with what works for you."

Draco stares at the moving pictures of the couples— male and female, and female and female— in various positions of copulation. He feels a rush of arousal as his gaze is drawn down to the photograph of a woman lying on her back, her bottom at the edge of the bed, feet resting on the shoulders of the male kneeling between her thighs.

Harry appears to be equally mesmerised as the man's hips piston back and forth, his hands gripping the sides of the women's hips, her swollen belly cradled between his arms. Harry nudges Draco in the shoulder and gives him a heated look.

Draco swallows. "That's… that's very informative."

"And very helpful," Harry adds, voice filled with promise.

"I also don't recommend the use of protective spells for STIs, given the magical nature of the pregnancy. So, condoms, if you choose. If either of you need to be tested, I can arrange for that as well," Luna says.

"I'd be glad to get retested, regardless of whether we choose to use condoms or not," Harry says.

Draco nods. He hasn't been with anyone sexually since his last negative test, but since they're working backwards at this point (seriously, only he would have a baby first and then sex, as Pansy had pointed out), he wants the continued groundwork of their relationship to be as solid and smooth as possible.

"Same," he says.

"Great." Luna scribbles out two referrals and hands them to Harry and Draco. "The clinic is open until eight today, if you're in a rush," she says with a smile.

"Before you run out the door, we should schedule your next visit. We can keep it at two weeks from now," Cho says. "After that, because of the nature of your pregnancy, I'll need to see you weekly until you deliver."

"Wow." Draco closes his eyes as Harry squeezes his hand. It seems so fast, yet not soon enough. But everything seems to be falling into place, and Draco allows himself this moment of happiness. "Do you… could I have a minute with Harry?"

"Of course," Cho and Luna say in unison.

Draco casts a _Muffliato._ "I want to know the sex of the baby," Draco says in a rush.

Harry's mouth drops open. "You do?" 

There's no denying the hopeful excitement on Harry's face. Draco knows that Harry has been deferring to Draco's wishes to keep the sex a mystery. And while people wish to keep the baby's gender a surprise for various reasons, Draco had done so out of his own uncertainty regarding his relationship with Harry as well as the pregnancy.

But now…

"Yes," Draco says, with a huge grin that matches Harry's as he cancels the _Muffliato._ "I do."

Harry pulls up his chair right next to Draco's as they tell Cho and Luna. They clasp their hands tightly, fingers intertwined and slightly clammy as Cho pulls up the ultrasound to show them exactly what they want to know.

"Merlin." Draco breaks into a blinding smile as Harry sags against him, his happy breaths tickling the strands of Draco's hair. 

**_April_ **

"Fuck." Draco groans, hands settling over his stomach as the cramping swells, an ache that spreads to his groin and wraps around his back. He tries to take several deep breaths, his hand rising and falling as it rests on his belly, the muscles of his abdomen tightening underneath.

Harry's up like a bolt of lightning. He's a light sleeper, as it turns out, and as the weeks progress, even more so.

"What's wrong?" he asks, clearly on edge, like he's prepared for the third coming of Voldemort. Or, at least, to place a call to Cho at three in the morning.

"Nothing." Draco sucks in a breath. The pained gasp that follows doesn't alleviate Harry's obvious worry. "I'm pretty sure it's those bloody Braxton-Hicks contractions." He grimaces as another wave passes, although less intense than the first.

"Do you want me to get you some tea? Draw a bath?"

Draco shakes his head. "The idea of getting out of bed and into a tub is worse. And I'm not dehydrated, just.... just talk to me a bit. Distract me."

Harry props himself on his side, facing Draco. He leans forward then runs his fingers along Draco's hairline, brushing the strands back.

"You're amazing. I hope our son is like you."

"Self-important and culpable?" Draco says with a wry laugh, which dissolves into a painful wheeze. "This is ridiculous," he gasps.

Harry continues his gentle stroking, smooth and rhythmic. "No. Brave and strong."

"Sounds like his other father." Draco closes his eyes.

"Hmmm." Harry's fingers are feathery soft. Reassuring. "I don't think the Draco Malfoy who printed up all those _'Potter Stinks'_ badges would agree. I bet you never imagined we'd end up here, sharing the same bed."

"Guess again," Draco says, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

"Really?"

Draco opens his eyes and sees Harry watching him, his green eyes practically glowing in the dark. "Unfortunately, yes. Maybe not fourth year, but… you had no idea the things I had to endure once Blaise found out." He shakes his head at the bittersweet memories.

Harry puffs out his chest, visibly chuffed at the news.

"Stop," Draco laughs. "I was a teenage boy. I had a crush on half the student body."

Harry gives him a wounded look, but from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, Draco knows it's all a ruse.

"I didn't feel so brave back then," Harry confesses, his tone sliding into something more serious. "I put my trust in people— some deserving and others not— and relied on my instincts, which were hardly infallible. It was friends like Ron and Hermione who helped me through. Without them… well, things would have turned out differently. I'm not sure if I was truly brave or just lucky."

"They're not mutually exclusive concepts, you know." Draco shifts, trying to get into a comfortable position. The cramps have subsided but now the sheets feel hot and heavy against his skin. "Growing up, I thought I was the luckiest person in the world. That changed around fifth year. Then, when I was accepted into the Auror training program and partnered with you, I didn't think I could be any luckier." He looks up at Harry. "I was wrong." 

"We're both lucky." Harry kisses his forehead "And you forgot 'brave', by the way. Not mutually exclusive, and all that."

"No braver than anyone else in our position."

"Including Saunders?" Harry can't hide his grin as Draco makes a moue. "I wasn't talking about the Aurors, though. I was talking about this," he says, placing his hand on Draco's belly.

Draco flushes. "You can't compare carrying a baby with your decision to walk into the Forbidden Forest."

"I'm not downplaying what I've been through. But you shouldn't, either. Can we at least agree that we've both been, in our own way, brave?"

"Fine. But only if you'll drop it," Draco says as Harry lowers himself to curl his body around Draco's. Honestly, Harry's humility is on a whole other level.

Harry grabs Draco's hand, their fingers intertwining. They lie together in relative silence until Harry snickers.

"What now?" Draco says, miffed.

"If our son is anything like you, we'll have our hands full." Harry's body shakes with silent laughter.

Draco slaps Harry's forearm playfully. "Can we agree that we've both been, at one point and in our own way, difficult?" he asks, mimicking Harry.

"I agree," Harry says, murmuring into the crook of Draco's neck as he showers it with kisses. "We still have to think of a name, you know."

"Mmm." Draco settles against Harry's front. "It's tradition for Blacks to name their children after stars and constellations. I like the idea, but more than that...” He flushes. “I love the idea of being close to the heavens." Draco pulls Harry closer, wiggling against the warmth of Harry's body. "There were so many times where I've felt trapped. The night sky's always brought me solace."

Harry is unusually quiet. Perhaps the idea hits too close to home; Draco knows that, aside from Sirius and Andromeda and Draco himself, Harry can do without the rest of the Blacks.

Draco tilts his head back and looks at Harry. "We can talk about it more when we're not half-asleep."

Harry huffs. "I'm not against the idea, it's just that the only stars I can think of— besides Sirius, of course— are Polaris and Alpha Centauri. Oh, and Betelgeuse." He frowns. "And I want you to be happy, but that might be asking too much."

"No child of mine is going to be named Alpha Centauri," Draco scoffs. "Unless we're planning to relocate to some hippie commune."

"I actually spent several months in an Italian commune after the War, trying to find myself," Harry says with a chuckle.

"Did it help?"

"Not really. Got myself a fancy name though: Hippogriff Pampas."

Draco stares, then bursts out laughing. "Merlin, that's terrible. It makes 'Betelgeuse' sound positively highbrow."

"Yeah," Harry concedes. "So now that you know I'm pants at choosing names, did you have one in mind?"

Draco fiddles with the sheets and nods. _"Scorpius._ It's one of the oldest and largest constellations— near the center of the Milky Way, so it's easy to find. But I also like that it's a reminder of Orion's hubris. That no matter how great we think we are, no one is infallible."

"I think it's perfect," Harry says, without hesitation. "Scorpius Potter-Malfoy."

There's a slight hitch in the way Harry offers the name that makes Draco think this is Harry's hopeful request. The idea that Harry would want his surname attached to Draco's is overwhelming.

"Negotiating life-long decisions at an ungodly hour is quite underhanded. Luckily, I love it." Draco turns onto his back to give Harry a conciliatory kiss that quickly grows heated.

"Let me make it up to you," Harry murmurs against Draco's lips once they break apart. His hand skims down Draco's hips and between Draco's thighs as Draco's cock twitches, signalling his interest. Harry's fingers circle Draco's rapidly hardening prick, the strands of Harry's hair brushing against Draco's skin as he kisses, then licks, along the seams of Draco's mouth.

After Luna and Cho had given their blessing, Harry and Draco had been eager to make up for lost time, exploring a wide variety of sexual positions and activities. But this one— with Harry's hips pressed gently against Draco's side, Harry's hand stroking him expertly in the middle of the night, in the bed they've lately shared more often than not— may be Draco's favourite.

Draco's hips rock forward, the gradual flush of pleasure spreading through his belly and his legs and down to his toes as Harry’s thumb swipes over the head of Draco’s cock, pulling his orgasm from him. It's not the only thing Harry coaxes from him, however, for when Draco closes his eyes, come-drunk and happily sated, dazed from the combination of endorphins and the early morning hour, three words slip from his lips:

_I love you._

Draco thinks, somewhere in the realm of half-sleep, half-awake, that he hears Harry whisper it back.

**_May_ **

"Stop fidgeting." They're already running ten minutes behind schedule, relying on Muggle transportation after Cho prohibited Apparition this close to the day of delivery.

"It's not my fault the Floo network is dodgy again," Harry mutters under his breath. He shifts the car into third gear once the cavalcade of tourist buses continue on A346 towards the Cotswolds. "Besides, we would have been on time if you hadn't insisted on hanging up that blasted mobile before we left."

Draco turns to fix Harry with a steely glare. "I waited for you to help me with it all week." He knows it's not fair, given Harry's long hours, but ever since he moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry, the constant desire to nest and Harry's absence are making him irritable. "Besides, you wanted to see it too," he finishes with a pout.

Harry draws in a deep breath, likely counting to ten. "I did. I love it," he says, by way of a peace offering.

It had taken Draco forever to find a master woodworker who could craft the mobile to his specifications. But seeing it in its full glory was worth every minute of the wait.

"Did you happen to notice the Seekers' uniforms?" he asks.

"First thing I noticed," Harry says, sounding amused. "I found it interesting that the Gryffindor chased after the Slytherin."

"As it should be," Draco says with a wink. There's a moment of silence, save for the hum of the car on the road. Draco lowers the window further, breathing in the sweet scent of the Corydalis that dot the Wiltshire meadows along with strong notes of wild grass and sweet lilac. It makes his heart ache, for the past and all his childhood memories.

Draco sighs, then places his hand on Harry's thigh. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult. It's getting hot, I feel as graceful as a Hippogriff, and I'm finding my place in our new home. And I've been nervous about today," he admits.

Harry arches a brow. "It can't be worse than the first two times, right?"

Draco shoots him a rueful look. When he first told his parents about his pregnancy (conveniently omitting Harry's role in it, as Harry hadn't known the news himself at the time) it had been an unmitigated disaster. His mother grew tight-lipped and silent while his father ranted. It was only when they learned just how rare and powerful the bonding spell was that they gave him their reluctant approval.

The second time was after his parents learned that Harry was the baby's other father. Draco had timed that visit strategically; the Christmas holidays were always steeped in family and tradition, and Harry had offered to come along for moral support.

Draco should have been surprised when his father accepted the news of his and Harry's joint visit with nothing more than a thoughtful hum. He should have been suspicious when his mother had asked him to confirm his whereabouts— three times— during their trip up from London.

Draco, however, should _not_ have resorted to threats of lawsuits, and he definitely should not have stooped to throwing hexes after seeing Rita Skeeter and the reporters from several different gossip rags positioned in front of the gates at the Manor.

"I'm hoping you won't have to pull any strings this time to smooth over any unpleasantness," Draco says with a grimace. "Although I'm not making any promises."

"To be fair, they tried to see the positive in the situation."

"By using your name and our yet-to-be-born child to save their own? Please tell me you don't agree with that."

Harry shrugs. "It _is_ a lot to take. After all, I keep putting myself in places where I'm not wanted."

Draco turns, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've inserted myself in Voldemort's plans; your mother's ancestral home; and now, in their only son." He turns the wheel to the right as the car makes its way up the long private road to the Manor, unable to suppress his grin.

Draco stares. Harry's lips twitch, his brawny body eventually giving in to his chuckles. "Keep it up, Golden Boy," Draco says with a roll of his eyes as Harry guffaws. "Let's see how much you'll be laughing once we arrive."

*****

Perhaps it's because the cozy breakfast nook has quickly become one of his favourite spots in Grimmauld Place, but only now does Draco notice just how impersonal the dining room is in his childhood home.

"How are you feeling, darling?" his mother asks, in between the clinks of their spoons.

"I'm well." It's a lie; he aches and feels ready to burst, but Draco won't give his parents a weapon to use against him. "Healer Chang has scheduled the Cesarean for the second week in June."

"At least one thing in your life will go according to plan," Lucius mutters under his breath.

Harry drops his silverware with a clatter, his shoulders set in a rigid line.

Narcissa continues, seemingly ignorant of the chill in the room. "What your father means is that raising a child is challenging, even under the most optimal circumstances. You need to prepare for every eventuality."

"It's impossible to prepare for everything. Even as an Auror, with the wealth of intelligence at hand, there are bound to be surprises in every case," Draco argues.

"But some preparedness is better than none."

Harry cuts in, and there's no mistaking the undercurrent of anger. "Draco and I have each other's full support and take great responsibility in preparing for our child. But there is such a thing as over-planning. Life is also about learning, and one way to do so is from our past mistakes."

"Is that what you're planning to do, Potter?" Lucius sneers. "Treat my son and grandson as some kind of experiment?"

Harry doesn't try to hide his disdain. "Life _is_ an experiment. I hope that Draco and I will give our son the guidance he needs to be successful, but if I control him, every step of the way, he'll never learn to make his own decisions. To follow blindly, without thought, is to raise a puppet and not a person."

Draco lets out a gasp. Harry's words are like a slap in the face; he knows they weren't directed at him specifically, at least not consciously. But there's no way that Draco's upbringing, and his father's role in it, hadn't influenced Harry's response.

Harry seems to realise this, too, as his eyes widen upon seeing Draco's stricken expression.

His father's gaze grows sharp and calculating. "While you may treat your future as an experiment, Draco needs to consider all the ramifications. After all, I highly doubt that the two of you would be living together if not for the baby and your bond." He pats the outline of his lips with the corner of his napkin. "How do we know you'll feel the same once the baby is born and the bond sustaining the pregnancy dissolves?"

Narcissa chimes in, addressing Draco. "What will happen, darling, if you and Harry should go your separate ways? How will you manage being a single father? Finding a place of your own? Do you even have the finances to do such a thing?"

Draco feels his face flame as the consommé he just swallowed threatens to make its way back up. "What are you saying?" he croaks out. He knows that the family coffers took a hit from the reparations they had to make following the war, but his family is not poor, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"I'm surprised you haven’t invited a barrister to dine with us today, given the direction of this conversation." Harry gets up from his seat, the chair he's sitting in skittering back with such force it nearly tips over. "I didn't stand for your threats when I was a child and I certainly won't stand for them now. The only thing tempering your insults regarding my financial responsibilities to Draco and my son is that you're doing so out of some misguided desire to protect your family. But I will not remain here to have my feelings for Draco and, in turn, his worth belittled."

He turns towards Draco, his expression regretful. "I'm sorry, love. I'll be by the car, whenever you're done."

Draco pushes to stand, although it's slower and more awkward. "I'll be there soon," he says as Harry nods.

"But you haven't even had lunch yet," Narcissa protests as Draco watches Harry walk out the door. 

"I've lost my appetite," Draco grits out. "Couldn't you try to make an effort?"

A flash of guilt crosses Narcissa's face, which Lucius quickly squashes. "Potter has brought you nothing but trouble for as long as you've known him," he says. "What makes you think this is anything different?"

"Because _I'm_ different. Because we've been partners at work, and we're having a child together. Because you haven't been there when he comes home, utterly exhausted, but he still insists on making me dinner or listening to my day. Because you have no idea of the kind of person Harry truly is."

"Your father and I are only looking out for your well-being, darling." Narcissa moves to stand, but she sits down after Draco gives her reproachful look. "You have more than yourself to consider, you know."

"I know. That's why it's so important for you to trust my judgment. To trust Harry. Because if you continue on this path, you're going to lose me. And that's the last thing I want for my son." He looks at his mother and father as they sit at the table, their dishes long cold. He loves them; he knows that they have his best interests at heart. But no matter how well-meaning their intentions, it doesn't make them right. "I've been trying to include you in my life because my greatest hope is for Scorpius to grow up knowing how loving his grandparents can be. His _only_ grandparents," Draco adds for emphasis. "But if I have to choose, I'm choosing my family first. And that means Scorpius and Harry."

"You're naming him 'Scorpius'?" Narcissa asks, her voice wavering.

"Yes. Let's hope his name's not the last thing I have of you to give," Draco replies as he shows himself out.

*

The manner in which the copse of trees sways and bends on the windless day is unquestionably unnatural.

"I hope you're not craving a smoke," Draco says. Harry has smoked occasionally in the past but Draco finally convinced him to break the habit altogether, for Harry's health as well as the baby's.

Unfortunately, Harry's had a looser leash on his accidental magic as a result.

"Craving and succumbing are two totally different things," he says, scuffing the dirt with his shoe.

"Well, at least you got rid of _your_ vice." Draco winces as he waves his hand towards the Manor. It looks beautiful with its majestic lines and green grounds and the gardens blooming under the sun. He hopes that Scorpius will be able to experience its glory one day. "I'm sorry about what happened. I gave my parents an ultimatum after you left."

The swaying of the trees lessens. "I'm glad, Draco. Not for me— I've no illusions that your father will be asking me out for drinks, any time soon. But for standing up for what you deserve."

If anything, Harry's understanding makes Draco feel worse. "I can't believe you're not running away right now," he says, burying his face in his hands. 

Harry frowns. He opens his mouth, then appears to think the better of it as he unlocks the car and removes something from the glove compartment as well as a small bolster. He transfigures the latter into a bench and motions for Draco to sit.

"I know that you're worried about what will happen after the bond is broken. But I am, too. What's to say you won't tire of me? We work long hours; we argue. You're Bond Street and I'm Brick Lane. You organise your wardrobe by season and colour while I throw everything together that fits in a drawer. You might come home one day and decide you've had enough."

"I fancied you even when we were at each other's throats," Draco confesses. "I doubt a misplaced t-shirt will change that."

Something seems to ease inside Harry. He sits down next to Draco and places an arm around his waist.

"That night in St Mungo's, after we Apparated from Llanddwyn? You were so pale. So still. I thought I was going to lose you." Harry's voice grows hoarse, and Draco turns, nuzzling his cheek. "I've wanted to ask you on a date for years, but it never seemed to be the right time. You were so focused on making it through the Academy, and when we were partnered, I thought it would ruin our working relationship if you didn't share the same feelings. And then, that night, I thought I'd never get the chance.

"Ron and Hermione used to accuse me of being obsessed with you when we were younger," Harry admits. "Looking back, I think we were connected, long before the bloody bond. And now that we've been spending time together, living together… well, being with you makes me happier than I'd ever imagined." 

Harry slips his hand in his pocket and withdraws a small velvet box. "I've come close to giving this to you so many times," he says as Draco gasps. "The only thing that's kept me from proposing is that I know you. I know you'll always wonder whether it was the bonding spell that made me do it. So I'll wait until after Scorpius is born, or however long it takes. I'm yours, Draco. Now and forever."

Draco can barely breathe; he's giddy and delirious, and it's probably the happiest he's been. He surges forward and grabs the front of Harry's shirt, drawing him into a kiss.

"Don't you dare lose that ring," Draco whispers. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand as he thinks about his original life's plan. "A baby before sex or marriage. Merlin, it’s a bit botched, isn’t it?"

Harry kisses him back. "It is. But I wouldn't change a single thing about it."

**_June_ **

"Arrrrgh!" Draco takes to stabbing the paper with his quill.

Harry crooks a brow from the kitchen island where he's cooking breakfast. "What did that paper ever do to you?" he asks as he whisks their eggs.

"I've been stuck on this clue forever. Whirlybird. Nine letters. Ends in 'ER'." Draco frowns, staring at the row of squares for so long he's apt to go cross-eyed. "Isn't 'whirlybird' another name for a Muggle helicopter?"

"Yes." Harry sets the skillet on the flame and sets it to low. "They should give you points just for knowing that."

"This isn't 'Jeopardy', Harry." Draco chews on his lower lip. "Helicopter. Chopper. Copter. Nothing fits!" he cries, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Harry holds up his bowl. "What about this?" he asks, taking out the whisk.

Draco squints. Harry knows how he takes his eggs. "Same as always. Scrambled. Soft and just this side of runny."

"No, I mean…" Harry laughs as he waves around the whisk, droplets of egg clinging valiantly to its wires. "An eggbeater. That's a nine-letter word for helicopter as well."

"It is?" Draco sucks his lower lip between his teeth and scribbles in 'eggbeater'. "How in the bloody hell did you know that?"

"My cousin liked to build model planes. One of them was a helicopter the Americans built during the Second World War. I remember it because it had unusual rotor blades."

One night, Harry had shared stories of how Dudley bullied Harry as a child. Draco thinks it incredible that they could have a relationship now, even though it's more cordial than friendly. Although, if he thinks about his own history with Harry, perhaps it's not so strange, after all.

He clears his throat. "Speaking of ill-mannered family members, my mother sent over a cashmere blanket and linen set from Atelier Choux yesterday."

Harry pours the eggs into the skillet and places the bowl in the sink. The buttery smell fills the air, and Draco's stomach growls. "Seriously? Cashmere?" Harry picks up a wooden spatula and pokes at the eggs. "I'm pretty sure Scorpius will feel just as comfortable swaddled in cotton."

Draco folds up the crossword page in half and places it on the right-hand corner of the table. "I'm sure you're right. It's just her way of trying to get in our good graces, you know."

Harry pokes at the eggs again. "I'm glad she's making an effort. Better late than never." His forehead, which was furrowed, loosens as a pleased look overtakes his face. "I can't believe we're going to be fathers in two days." 

Draco makes grabby hands at the stove. "Nothing will happen if you don't feed me. I'm starving."

"Are you going to be this demanding always?" Harry teases. He plates the eggs, cooked perfectly, over two slices of thick, sourdough bread and brings it over to Draco.

"As long as I'm able," Draco says with a grin as Harry goes back to make a plate for himself. Draco takes a forkful of his breakfast— the perfect balance of egg and bread— and takes a bite, then chases it down with some tea.

"What is this?" he asks, frowning at his cup. In his haste, he hadn't looked at the tea Harry poured. When he tilts the mug towards the light, he discovers it's not the pale green tea he normally has in the morning but a reddish brown. It's nuttier, woodsy. Quite tasty, but different.

"Rooibos tea. Made with something extra-special." Harry sits down next to Draco. "Do you like it? It's caffeine-free and it's supposed to have plenty of antioxidants."

"I know what Rooibos is, it's just— " Draco puts his hand on his belly. "I don't think the baby likes it much." He puts the cup down, feeling off-kilter and queasy.

Harry hesitates then puts his hand over Draco's. "He doesn't feel like he's too active. At least, not more than usual."

"Well, you're not the one who's experiencing it, are you?" Draco snaps. He shifts position; he feels as if he's cramping, his body flushed, but nothing seems to relieve the symptoms. He goes to stand, but the pain seems to be wringing him from the inside out, dull and throbbing.

Draco blinks. "Fuck."

"Deep breaths," Harry says, putting his hand on Draco's back.

Instead of settling their bond, the pressure makes the sensation worse.

"Get your hand off me. And don't patronise me," Draco hisses. "I know how to deep breathe." He closes his eyes, rests his hand on his belly and inhales as he counts to five. He only reaches three before another spasm wracks his body, this time stronger than the first. "What did you put in the tea?" he accuses Harry, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Nothing! A spot of honey and milk." Harry runs over to the pantry and pulls out the offending ingredients. He casts a wandless _Specialis Revelio,_ a feat that might have been incredibly arousing on any other day, but now only serves to inflame Draco's irritation. After all, it's because of Harry's freakish power that they're in this predicament to begin with. "Nothing's been cast on them."

"You said you added something extra-special. What's the extra-special?" Draco glares.

"Love! I made it with love," Harry says sheepishly.

Draco sucks in a deep breath. "That's ridiculous." Sweet, too, but he won't admit it. He straightens as the aching eases, then picks up his wand and Vanishes the tea. Then, for dramatic effect, he does the same with the pot of honey and milk. 

Harry looks amused. "Really? I liked that mug."

"I'll buy you another. I— oh. Oh," he grits out as he slumps down into his seat.

Harry's face turns two shades whiter. "I'm going to call Cho. What should I say?" He's already halfway from the kitchen to the Floo before Draco can respond.

"That it feels like a seven-pound baby’s trying to push its way out of my arse," Draco grinds out

Harry snickers. Draco thinks he hears Harry mutter _arsebaby_ under his breath.

"Harry James Potter, if you don't get in touch with Cho right now, I swear I will Vanish every last bit of Cannons paraphernalia from your study." Draco closes his eyes and tries once more to deep breathe. It doesn't feel like the false contractions he's experienced in the past; they don't lessen with any position, and the truth is, he's scared. 

"Okay," Harry says a couple minutes later. Draco slowly opens his eyes; he's not comfortable, but it's nowhere near the level of pain he was in before. "So Cho said we need to time how far apart the contractions are and how long they last. If it's more than twenty minutes between episodes, she suggests resting or taking a warm bath."

Normally, Draco would jump at the chance of a long, luxurious bath, but right now, it seems like a ridiculous solution. "And if they're less than twenty minutes?"

Harry takes a deep breath. "She said that for women, early labour can last hours to days. But since we don't know if that applies to men as well, she wants us to go to St Mungo's for observation."

Draco nods, but then his face twists into a grimace as another contraction comes, stronger and faster than the one before.

Harry looks panicked. "That couldn't have been more than ten minutes."

Draco nods. "You know the overnight bag I've packed in the hall?"

"Yeah? Oh, yeah…" Harry's face is a comical mix of shock and anticipation. "Oh my god." He comes up to Draco's side and helps him up, wrapping himself around Draco protectively. "Oh my god."

Draco's pain eases temporarily. He touches Harry's brow, his voice trembling with emotion. "Merlin's balls, Harry. We're going to have a baby."

*

The lights in St Mungo's are just as bright as they were nine months ago, but this time the details aren't fuzzy but sharp as information flies at Draco from all directions: the sharp, bleachy scent of disinfectant; the rattling wheels of a nearby stretcher being pulled down the hall; the dulcet tones of the witch announcing that the elevators are closing in 3-2-1..

"Draco, we’ll be bringing you to the delivery suite to be prepped. Are you going to be with him during the delivery, Harry?" Cho asks, looking dubiously at the way Harry has Draco's forearm enclosed in a firm grip. She's dressed in a light blue scrub top and pants, the kind that Muggle doctors wear when they're about to do something medical and messy.

"Of course." Harry looks affronted. "It's better for Draco and the baby, right? For me to be there to strengthen their magic and the bond?"

Cho looks unconvinced. "It is. But it certainly won't be helpful if you're anxious or if your emotions are so heightened that your magic becomes unruly."

"I want to be there. Especially if Draco agrees."

Draco looks up at Harry from his wheelchair. Harry does look a little green. "If I do, will you loosen your hold? I think I'm losing the circulation in my hand."

Harry looks mortified as he removes his hand. He bends down and brushes a kiss along Draco's forehead. "I'm sorry. It's just… I need you and the baby to be all right." Cho busies herself with her papers, giving them the illusion of privacy. "When we get home, I'm going to do everything I can to show just how much you mean to me."

Draco pretends to think. "I want breakfast in bed for the next month."

"Of course," Harry says, his voice breaking.

"And I want back and foot rubs. At least once a day."

"Done," Harry says with a fond smile.

Draco arches a brow. The elevator dings, signalling their floor as their small entourage rolls on out. "A pet. Perhaps a guard dog, like the one Hagrid used to have."

"A three-headed dog like Fluffy? No problem." Harry laughs, the tension easing from his shoulders as his eyes soften into something warm and easy.

Harry's earnestness tugs at Draco's heart. Draco can't deny that he's scared. That they're _both_ scared. It's not only about what's to immediately follow, but it's the way their lives will change with a baby in tow and after the spell's dissolved. He doesn't want to lose this feeling of _them,_ and more than anything, he wants to show Harry how much Harry's feelings are returned.

"What about you? What do you want?" Draco asks as Cho opens the door to the delivery suite. He winces as another contraction starts to build, but he needs to know this, needs to know the answer before everything changes and Harry's feelings for him possibly waver.

Harry walks in front of Draco and takes Draco's hands in his.

"You've given it to me already, Draco. You've given me your love and a family. One that will become bigger, very soon." His eyes are piercing, staring at Draco with the intensity of a thousand stars. "The Fates knew it that night on Llanddwyn Island. My wish has already come true."

"Come," Cho says, wheeling Draco in. "You can put Draco's things in his room," she tells Harry. "We'll come get you when Draco is ready."

*

Most of the time, when people coo over newborns, Draco would look at them askance. After all, babies are wrinkly and messy, needy and fussy, and wriggly and squalling. But Scorpius Hyperion Potter-Malfoy defies all the rules.

"Hi," Draco coos once his son— _his son!—_ has been cleaned and swaddled in a hospital-issued, blue-and-pink striped blanket. It's been six hours since he entered St Mungo's, and his body is exhausted and belly sore, his brain muzzy from all the excess endorphins, pain potions, and Healing Charms. Regardless, he's pretty sure it's not an illusion when he declares his son the most beautiful baby he's ever seen.

Scorpius looks up at Draco, his grey eyes clear and unblinking, Cupid’s-bow lips parted.

"He's a heartbreaker already," Cho says.

"Of course he is." Luna smiles. "Look at his fathers."

Harry puts a hand on Scorpius' back and meets Draco's gaze. Scorpius looks so tiny nestled in the curve of Harry's palm, and Draco's heart aches with a swell of protectiveness. Of course it's too early to tell, but Draco can make out the light blond strands of Scorpius' hair as well as the lushness of lips that are undoubtedly Harry's. Draco's own features are sharp and delicate, even as a baby, while Scorpius' look fuller. Perhaps he'll inherit Harry's strong jaw. 

Draco pulls back slightly to discern more of Scorpius' features. Scorpius makes a smacking sound and turns his face towards Draco's chest, snuffling. 

"He wants to feed," Luna says as Draco's face heats up, the strip of pale skin that's visible through the opening of his hospital gown noticeably pink. "We have formula here, but if you'd like, you could try to breastfeed Scorpius to supplement his diet as well."

Draco looks down at his chest. His breasts are slightly swollen and heavy, his nipples puffy and enlarged. 

"You think I could?" He doubts that they will produce much milk, but he's seen the occasional wetness on his shirt, the thin, blue-white droplets that ooze forth when Harry gets him off.

"I think you could. We could try." Luna sits Draco up then gathers several blankets and places them on his lap. She helps him position Scorpius so Scorpius can feed safely and comfortably, and Draco lets out a surprised noise when Scorpius roots around and finally latches onto his nipple.

"Oh my god. I think that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Harry says as if unable to help himself.

Draco looks up at Harry. He sees the unquestionable love and happiness in Harry's eyes and agrees. 

Honestly, between Harry and Scorpius, it's a toss up. Either way, he feels bloody lucky.

**_Epilogue_ **

"Remind me why we were so eager for Scorpius to walk?" Draco asks, staring nervously as Scorpius toddles after Rose. The outfit Draco's parents purchased for Christmas was already in hopeless disarray, punctuated by the tiara Rose has somehow managed to get Scorpius to wear. Draco has to hand it to her; he can't even get Scorpius to wear a hat for five minutes before his fashion-adverse son throws it off in a fit of temper.

Hermione shifts her four-month old son on her hip. Hugo cranes his neck to watch the mistletoe that's charmed to float, lingering in doorways and corners. "Every milestone seems like a monumental achievement," she observes. "And then you realise there's another one, right around the corner."

Draco watches as Scorpius wavers, wobbling on his chubby legs as Teddy Lupin comes barreling through the door. Teddy is a ball of frenetic, pre-teen energy, made worse with holiday sweets. Scorpius points and coos when Teddy drops to his knees and gives Scorpius a hug.

"Boo!" Scorpius says. He fists Teddy's bright blue locks and pulls, grey eyes widening as if to contemplate how they'd taste.

Teddy, to his credit, looks nonplussed. "Where's Fluffy, Draco?" he asks as he gently loosens Scorpius' grip. Because apparently that's a thing nowadays, with children calling adults by their first name. "I want to teach her this cool trick."

Scorpius sticks his knuckles in his mouth, drooling around it happily. 

"I think Harry— never mind," he says as the front door opens. It lets in a blast of cold, December air and Harry and the Crup along with it. The flames in the fireplace burn brighter in response. "They're here."

"Pffft!" Scorpius burbles, waving his arms.

Harry hangs up his coat and brushes the snow from his hair as Teddy brings Scorpius over to greet the Crup. He walks over to Draco and envelopes him in a hug; Draco catches Hermione watching them with a knowing look, and he feels himself flush.

Draco distracts himself by removing Harry's glasses and charms them clean of the condensation and fog. "No more shoveling. There are Cleaning Charms for that, you know."

"I like doing things around the house." Harry's eyes are bright. He looks unbearably happy.

Hermione smiles. "The two of you are the definition of domestic bliss."

Draco looks around. It's been a little over two years since the spell was cast on Llanddwyn Island. He never could have imagined that he'd end up here: with a child of his own, married to Harry, and voluntarily hosting a bunch of Weasleys in his ancestral home.

"I know. It's terrible. I've a husband, a child, and a Crup. I've become a living cliché." Draco wiggles his left hand, his wedding band glinting in the light. 

"Well, I think it suits you." Hermione sounds sincere, and it causes a warmth to spread through Draco's chest. He can't call Hermione and Ron friends, at least not on the level of Pansy or Blaise, but they are all making a concerted effort. It's growing easier, especially since the children have been spending so much time together.

"I agree," Harry says to Hermione before turning his attention to Draco. "And there's nothing cliché about you," he adds, brushing a thumb under Draco's chin. "The world couldn't handle more than one."

"That's not what you said last night," Draco says with an arch of his brow. Harry's blush extends up to his hairline at the reminder of their fantasy.

Hermione clears her throat, shifting Hugo one again as he starts to fuss. "On that note, I'll excuse myself. I think Hugo needs to feed, anyway." She strokes the back of Hugo's head and murmurs something soothing as he starts to wriggle and whimper.

Draco watches them leave, suddenly wistful.

"Do you miss that? Feeding Scorpius?" Harry asks, voice low after a beat.

Draco looks down. He's back to his pre-pregnancy weight, something he attributes to the combination of breast-feeding, returning to his position with the Aurors, and raising an eighteen-month old.

Oh, yes. And some very frequent, and often vigorous, bouts of sex.

Still, there's a part of him that misses the changes his body went through, especially now that he's gone through it. He misses the closeness he shared with Scorpius, a bond that, while no less or greater than the one that exists now, is different. He misses the excitement that comes with his Healer's visits, of seeing Scorpius' development with each passing week.

"There's lots to look forward to," Draco deflects. "Potty training. Apparition licenses. First loves and broken hearts. Calls from Headmistress McGonagall when Scorpius has broken one too many rules." Draco makes a face as he thinks of the possibilities. "He can't be worse than we were, can he?" Somehow, he doesn't sound convincing.

"I don't know. I think, all things considered, we managed pretty well."

Draco ducks his head and smiles. "This certainly wasn't the way I envisioned my life's grand plan, but I don't regret anything that's happened between us. In fact, if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing."

A tinkling noise overhead increases in intensity, breaking through the muted, adult laughter and occasional shouts of the children. Draco and Harry both look up at the sprig of mistletoe dangling overhead, its berries shaking with something approaching determination.

"Don't give me that look. It was your idea to hang mistletoe," Harry says, putting his hands up.

_"Hang_ mistletoe. I wanted to hang it, not charm it to flit about, attacking innocent bystanders for hours."

Harry gives him a sheepish look. "I might have underestimated the power of the spell," he says as the mistletoe darts lower. 

"You don't know your own power." Draco's voice is a bit breathy. Honestly, it shouldn't turn Draco on as much as it does.

Harry's eyes dart up. "Kiss me? I don't think it's going to leave us alone until we do."

Draco leans in and then stops, their lips a hairsbreadth apart. "I don't know," he says as Harry gives him a quizzical look. "A love charm mixed with powerful magic? We could be inviting trouble."

Harry leans in a fraction, his breath ghosting hot over Draco's lips. "I wouldn't mind."

Draco thinks about all he has. He has a family and friends, and Scorpius and Harry. It's unexpected and perfect.

"Neither would I," he says as he seals the declaration with a kiss.

_**~Fin~** _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say "hi" on Tumblr: [nerdherderette](https://nerdherderette.tumblr.com/)


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